2 - The Ruby Knight

by The Ruby Knight [lit]

  beast isn't really dead, so it came at him before he had

  time to protect himself.' She looked down at Tynian's

  ashen face. 'There's one thing that might work,' she

  mused doubtfully. "It's worth a try, I suppose. I don't

  think anything else will save his sanity. Flute, come

  here.'

  The little girl rose from where she had been sitting

  cross-legged on the canvas ground-sheet of the tent. Her

  bare feet were grass-stained, Sparhawk noted absently.

  Even in spite of all the mud and wet, Flute's feet always

  seemed to have those greenish stains on them. She softly

  crossed the tent to Sephrenia, her dark eyes questioning.

  Sephrenia spoke to her in that peculiar Styric dialect.

  Flute nodded.

  'All right, gentlemen,' Sephrenia said to Sparhawk

  and Ulath, 'there's nothing you can do here, and at the

  moment you're just underfoot.'

  'We'll wait outside,' Sparhawk said, feeling slightly

  abashed at the crisp way they had been dismissed.

  "I'd appreciate it.'

  The two knights went out of the tent. "She can be very

  abrupt, can't she?' Ulath noted.

  'When she has something serious on her mind.'

  'Has she always treated you Pandions this way?'

  'Yes.'

  Then they heard the sound of Flute's pipes coming

  from inside the tent. The melody was much like the

  peculiarly drowsy one she had played to lull the attention

  of the spies outside the chapterhouse and the soldiers on

  the docks at Vardenais. There were slight differences,

  however, and Sephrenia was speaking sonorously in

  Styric as a sort of counterpoint. Suddenly, the tent began

  to glow with a peculiar golden light.

  "I don't believe I've ever heard that spell before,' Ulath

  admitted.

  'Our instruction only covers the things we're likely to

  need to know,' Sparhawk replied. 'There are whole

  realms of Styric magic we don't even know exist. Some

  are too difficult, and some are too dangerous.' Then he

  raised his voice. 'Talen,' he called.

  The young thief poked his head out of one of the other

  tents. 'What?' he said flatly.

  'Come here. I want to talk to you.'

  'Can't you do it inside? It's wet out there.'

  Sparhawk sighed. 'Just come here, Talen,' he said.

  'Please don't argue with me every time I ask you to do

  something. '

  Grumbling, the boy came out of the tent. He

  approached Sparhawk warily. 'Well, am I in trouble

  again?'

  'Not that I know of. You said that farmer you bought

  the wagon from is named Wat?'

  'Yes.'

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  'How far is his farm from here?'

  'A couple of miles.'

  'What does he look like?'

  'His eyes look off in two different directions,

  and he scratches a lot. Isn't he the fellow that old man in

  the taproom was telling you about?'

  'How did you know about that?'

  "I was listening outside the door.' Talen shrugged.

  'Eavesdropping?'

  "I don't know if I'd really put it that way. I'm a child,

  Sparhawk - or at least people think I am. Grown-ups

  don't think they have to tell things to children. I've found

  that if I really need to know anything, I'm going to have

  to find it out for myself.'

  'He's probably got a point, Sparhawk,' Ulath said.

  'You'd better get your cloak,' Sparhawk told the boy.

  'in just a little bit, you and I are going to pay a visit to this

  itchy farmer.'

  Talen looked out over the rainy field and sighed.

  From inside the tent, flute's pipe-song broke off, and

  Sephrenia ceased her incantation.

  "I wonder if that's a good sign or a bad one,' Ulath said.

  They waited tensely. Then, after a few moments,

  Sephrenia looked out. "I think he'll be all right now.

  Come in and talk to him. I'll know better once I hear how

  he answers. '

  Tynian was propped up on a pilow. His face was still

  ashy grey and his hands were trembling. His eyes,

  however, though still haunted, appeared rational.

  'How are you feeling?' Sparhawk asked him, trying to

  sound casual.

  Tynian laughed weaklly. "If you really want to know

  the truth, I feel as if I'd been turned inside out and then

  put together again backwards. Did you manage to kill

  that monstrosity?'

  'Sparhawk drove it off with that spear of his,' Ulath

  told him.

  A haunted fear came into Tynian's eyes. "It might come

  back then?' he asked.

  'Not very likely,' Ulath replied. "It jumped back into

  the burial mound and pulled the ground in after it.'

  'Thank God,' Tynian said with relief.

  'I think you'd better sleep now,' Sephrenia told him.

  "we can all talk more later.'

  Tynian nodded and lay back again.

  Sephrenia covered him with a blanket, motioned to

  Sparhawk and Ulath and led them outside. "I think he's

  going to be all right,' she said. "I felt much better when I

  heard him laugh. It's going to take some time, but at least

  he's on the mend.'

  "I'm going to take Talen and go and talk to that farmer,'

  Sparhawk told them. 'He seems to be the one the old man

  at the inn told us about. He might be able to give us some

  idea of where to go next.'

  "It's worth a try, I suppose,' Ulath said a bit doubtfully.

  KuriK and I'll keep an eye on things here.'

  Sparhawk nodded and went into the tent he normally

  shared with Kalten. He removed his armour and put on

  his plain mail-shirt and stout woollen leggings instead.

  He belted on his sword and then pulled his grey, hooded

  travellers cloak about his shoulders. He went back out to

  the fire. 'Come along, Talen,' he called.

  The boy came out of the tent with a look of resignation

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  on his face. His still-damp cloak was wrapped tightly

  about him. "I don't suppose I could talk you out of this,'

  he said.

  'No.'

  "I hope that farmer hasn't looked into his barn yet,

  then. He might be a little touchy about the missing

  firewood.'

  "I'll pay for it if I have to.'

  Talen winced. 'After I went to all the trouble of stealing

  it? SParhawk, that's degrading. It might even be immoral.'

  'Sparhawk looked at him quizzically. "Someday you're

  going to have to explain the morality of a thief to me.'

  "It's really very simple, Sparhawk. The first rule is not

  to pay for anything.'

  "I thought it might be something like that. Let's go.'

  The sky to the west was definitely growing lighter as

  Sparhawk and Talen rode towards the lake, and the rain

  had become no more than sporadic showers. That in

  itself lightened Sparhawk's mood. It had been a bleak

  time. The uncertainty which had dogged his steps from

  the moment they had left Cimmura had proved to be

&nb
sp; fully justified, but even now the certainty that they had

  taken a wrong course provided him with firm ground for

  a new beginning. Sparhawk accepted his losses stoically

  and went on towards the lightening sky.

  The house and outbuildings of the farmer, Wat, lay in a

  little dell. It was a slovenly-looking sort of place surrounded

  by a log palisade that leaned dispiritedly away

  from the prevailing wind. The house, half-log and half-stone,

  had a poorly thatched roof and looked definitely

  run-down. The barn was even worse, appearing to

  continue to stand more out of habit than from any

  structural integrity. A broken-down cart sat in the

  muddy yard, and rusting tools lay wherever their owner

  had discarded them. Wet, dishevelled chickens

  scratched in the mud without much hope, and a scrawny

  black and white pig rooted near the doorstep of the

  house. 'Not very neat, is he?' Talen observed, as he and

  Sparhawk rode in. "I saw the cellar you were living in back in Cimmura,'

  Sparhawk replied. "It wasn't exactly what you'd call

  tidy.'

  'But at least it was out of sight. This fellow's messy in

  public.'

  A man with dislocated eyes and unkempt, dirty hair

  shambled out of the house. His clothing appeared to be

  tied together with bits of twine, and he was absently

  scratching at his stomach. 'What's yer business here?' he

  asked in an unfriendly tone. He levelled a kick at the pig.

  'Get outta there, Sophie,' he said.

  "we were talking with an old man back there in the

  village,' Sparhawk replied, pointing with his thumb back

  over his shoulder. 'He was a white-haired fellow with a

  wobbly neck who seemed to know a lot of old stories.'

  "you must mean old Farsh,' the farmer said.

  'Never did catch his name,' Sparhawk said easily. 'We

  met him in the tap-room at the inn.'

  "That's Farsh, all right. He likes to stay close to the

  beer. What's this got to do with me?'

  'He said you were fond of the old stories too - the ones

  that have to do with the battle that went on here some

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  five hundred or so years ago.'

  the wall-eyed man's face brightened. 'Oh, so that's it,'

  he said. 'Me'n Farsh always used to swap those old tales.

  Why don't you an' yer boy come inside, yer worship? I

  ha'nt had a chance t' talk about the good ol' days fer a

  long time now.'

  "why, that's mighty obliging of you, neighbour,'

  Sparhawk said, swinging down from Faran's back.

  'Come along, Talen.'

  lemme put yer mounts in the barn,' the itchy fellow

  offered.

  He looked at the rickety structure and shuddered.

  Thanks all the same, neighbour,' Sparhawk said, but

  the rain's letting up, and the breeze ought to dry their

  coats. We'll just put them out in your meadow, if that's

  all right.'

  "Somebody might come along an' try to steal 'em.'

  "not this horse,' Sparhawk told him. 'This is not the

  sort of horse people want to steal.'

  "yer the one as gets to walk if yer wrong, ' the wall-eyed

  man shrugged, turning to open the door to his house.

  The interior of the house was if anything more untidy

  than the yard had been. The remains of several meals sat

  on the table, and dirty clothes lay in heaps in the corners.

  'The name's Wat,' the wall-eyed man identified himself.

  He flopped down in a chair. 'Sit yerselves,' he invited.

  Then he squinted at Talen. 'Say, you was the young fella

  as bought my ol' wagon.'

  'Yes,' Talen replied, a bit nervously.

  "She run all right fer you? I mean, none of the wheels

  fell off or nothin'?'

  "It worked just fine,' Talen said, with some relief.

  'Glad t'hear it. Now, which particular stories was you

  interested in?'

  'What we're really looking for, Wat,' Sparhawk began,

  'is any information you might be able to give us about what

  happened to the old King of Thalesia during the battle. A

  friend of ours is distantly related to him, and the family

  wants his bones brought back to Thalesia for proper burial. '

  'Never heard nothin' about no Thalesian king,' Wat

  admitted, 'but that don't mean all that much. This was a

  big battle, and there was Thalesians fightin' with the

  Zemochs from the south end of the lake all the way up

  into Pelosia. Y'see now, what happened was that when

  the Thalesians started to land on the north coast up there,

  Zemoch patrols they seen 'em, an' Otha, he started to

  send some good-sized forces up there to try to keep 'em

  from gettin' to the main battlefield. At first, the

  Thalesians come down in small groups, an' the Zemochs,

  they had things pretty much their own way. There was a

  pretty fair number of runnin' fights up there when this

  group or that of the Thalesians got theirselves waylaid.

  But then the main body of the Thalesian army landed, an'

  they turned things around. Say, I got some home-brewed

  beer back there. Could I interest you in some?'

  "I wouldn't mind,' Sparhawk said, 'but the boy's a bit

  young.

  'Got some milk, if that'd suit you, young feller,' Wat

  offered.

  Talen sighed. 'Why not?' he said.

  Sparhawk thought things over. 'The Thalesian King

  would have been one of the first to land,' he said. 'He left

  his capital before his army did, but he never got as far as

  the battlefield.'

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  'Then most likely he's layin' somewhere up there in

  Pelosia or maybe someplace in Deira,' Wat replied. He

  rose to fetch beer and milk.

  "It's a big stretch of country,' Sparhawk winced.

  That it is, friend, that it is, but yer followin' the right

  trail. There's them in Pelosia an' deira as takes the same

  pleasure in the old tales as me'n old Farsh does, an' the

  closer y' get to wherever it is this king yer lookin' fer is

  buried, the better yer chances are gonna be of findin'

  somebody as kin tell y' what y' want to know.'

  That's true, I suppose.' Sparhawk took a sip of beer. It

  was cloudy, but it was about the best he had ever tasted.

  Wat leaned back in his chair, scratching at his chest.

  'Fact of the matter is, friend, that the battle was just too

  big fer any one man t' see it all. I pretty much know what

  went on around here, an' Farsh, he knows what went on

  down around the village an' on south. We all know in a

  general sorta way what happened overall, but when y'

  want to get down to spesific's y gotta talk with somebody

  as lives fairly close to where it actual happened.'

  Sparhawk sighed. "It's just a matter of pure luck, then,'

  he said glumly. We could ride right past the man who

  knows the story and never even think to ask him.'

  'Now, that's not entirely true, friend,' Wat disagreed.

  'us fellers as like to swap stories, we knows one another
.

  Old Farsh, he sent y' t' me, an' I kin send y' on to another

  feller I know in Paler up there in Pelosia. He's gonna

  know a lot more about what went on up there than I do,

  an' he'll know others as knows even more about what

  went on close t' where they live. That's what I meant

  when I said y' was followin' the right trail. All y' need t'

  do is go from feller t' feller until y' git the story y' want.

  It's a lot faster'n diggin' up all of northern Pelosia or

  Deira.'

  'You might be right at that.

  The wall-eyed man grinned crookedly. 'Not meanin'

  no offence, yer worship, but you gentle-folk think that us

  commoners don't know nothin', but when y' stack us all

  together, there's not very much in this world we don't

  know.'

  "I'll remember that,' Sparhawk said. 'Who's this man

  in Paler?'

  'He's a tanner, name of Berd- silly name, but Pelosians

  is like that. His tanyard's just outside the north gate of

  the city. They wouldn't let him set up inside the walls on

  accounta the smell, y' know. You go see Berd, an' if he

  don't know the story y' want to hear, he'll probably know

  somebody as does - or at least somebody as kin tell yr

  who y' oughtta talk to.'

  Sparhawk rose to his feet. 'Wat,' he said, 'you've been

  a real help.' He handed the fellow a few coins. 'The next

  time you go to the village, have yourself a few tankards of

  beer, and if you run into Farsh, buy him one too.'

  'Why, thankee, yer worship,' Wat said. "I most surely

  will. An' good luck in yer search.'

  'Thank you.' Then Sparhawk remembered something.

  "I'd like to buy some firewood from you, if you can spare

  any.' He handed Wat a few more coins.

  'Why, certainly, yer worship. Come along to the barn,

  an' I'll show you where it's stacked.'

  'That's all right, Wat,' Sparhawk smiled. 'We've

  already got it. Come along, Talen.'

  The rain had stopped entirely when Sparhawk and

  Talen came out of the house, and they could see blue sky

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  out over the lake to the'west.

  'You had to go and do that, didn't you?' Talen said in a

  disgusted tone of voice.

  'He was very helpful, Talen,' Sparhawk said defensively.

  'That has nothing to do with it. Did we really get very

  far with this?'

  "It was a start,' Sparhawk replied. 'Wat may not look

  very bright, but he's really very shrewd. The plan of